a village in this country
is a house in a clearing surrounded by stark trees
a nipple to which the wild urge lunges
encircles and snares
traplines with rusted teeth
and mocking fox pairs that know the knife trick
of constellations, smell the myth
through salivatory meat
a camp is a finger brushed
along the chain that by confusion
stands swings in unscaled orbit,
kills the mocking snap-toothed dog
escapes into the hungry river bed
sleeps with the reflection of stars
a star is the point
between a compass and a passion
orientation and orient
where whoops become wampum
raiding becomes trading
a star is the cross entering time
startled, star led,
always just in the beginning